


I'll Have What She's Having

by slipgoingunder



Series: Doing the Unstuck [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, When Harry Met Sally (1989)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awkward Sexual Situations, Bathroom Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Female Ejaculation, Fingerfucking, Gender or Sex Swap, Genderswap, Light Praise Kink, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Reylo - Freeform, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Tension, Shameless Smut, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, What Have I Done
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-07-28 09:44:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16239074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slipgoingunder/pseuds/slipgoingunder
Summary: Stand-alone-ish chapter from myReylo x When Harry Met Sally AU, Doing the Unstuck. If you haven't read it, check the beginning notes.Chronologically, this takes place after Chapter 9!This is my spin on the infamous scene at Katz's Deli when Sally fakes an orgasm at the table to prove a point. If you enjoyed Kylo Ren's spin with the Notes app in Chapter 4, he's kind of back? This was originally just IN the story, but I think I took it too far, so now it's in if you want it to be.Excerpt:“What are you doing?” she hisses. “I know this part. I practically have a PhD in it.”“You have to come first.” He doesn’t stop his movements. “Did I not mention that?”“No! No you didn’t!”“It’s very important. Like stretching before you run. You were just complaining about some guy jamming his finger in you. How did you think this was going to go?”“I don’t know!”“Well then I’m starting to understand what your problem is. Should I stop?”“No!” It comes out louder than she intends.





	I'll Have What She's Having

**Author's Note:**

> Doing the Unstuck is gender swapped When Harry Met Sally. Rey is Harry, Ben is Sally. Important to know that Ben, at this point, is already in his redemption arc phase, so he's kind of morose and directionless but trying to pull it together. Rey is getting divorced and is deeply in denial about a lot of things, but unlike Ben, she's very open about her sex life (with men and women) and Ben basically acts like he's fine with hearing these stories. In short, he often lets her have the upper hand. 
> 
> Just before this scene (in Ch 9) Rey texts Ben that she's frustrated with him acting sad and undeserving of love and affection and she "misses" the more aggro Kylo Ren persona. Oh, and he has left her an explicit voicemail as a prank and she's been listening to it kind of a lot. 
> 
> I swear this really is a When Harry Met Sally AU.
> 
> Thank you to [situation-normal ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/situation_normal/works) for the mood board!

“So I’m lying there, and he crawls on top of me and just like, starts to jam a finger up there and rummage around like he’s looking for his keys.”

Rey takes an enormous bite of her pastrami sandwich. She’d dressed to go to the gym this morning as part of a new “healthy routine,” but morning had somehow blurred into noon and noon had blurred into cured meat.  _ Which is protein _ .  _ Healthy protein _ . 

“Sorry to generalize,” she continues after swallowing, “but men really don’t understand where it is or what to do with it. And the kicker is that there’s something much more accessible on the outside, which most of you ignore about two minutes into it.”

Ben looks up from the knish they’re sharing. He cuts it neatly into a two-thirds piece and a one-thirds piece, and he slides the bigger part over to Rey. 

“Definitely not a generalization at all, no.”

“You have crumbs on your sweater,” she says. He stills as she reaches over and brushes her hand across the right side of his chest. “Ooh. Cashmere?”

He nods. She rubs the black knit between her fingers.  _ Of  _ course  _ he shows up to Katz’s in cashmere.  _

“Can I be honest about something?” she continues, returning to her sandwich. 

“Were you not being honest before?”

“I’m serious, I haven’t really told anyone this, like ever. Even my wife.” She flinches. “Ex-wife.”

“Okay.” He picks up his part of the knish. 

“I’ve only come from  _ that _ , like just that, maybe two or three times in my entire life.”

Ben puts the knish back down.  He has that “turning gears” look on his face again. 

“Not for lack of trying. And I know all bodies are different. Maybe mine just doesn’t do  _ that _ . But I’ve tried for ten years. I have an entire collection of toys that were supposed to open this door for me. But the angles are never quite right and I’m concentrating really hard and it’s like, when I do come I really don’t think it’s because of  _ that _ , anyway. I think it’s circumstantial.”

“Why do you keep calling it ‘that’?”

“Because when you give something a name, you give it power. And I’m not sure I believe this place exists in  _ my _ body. Like, yeah, nerve endings. It’s all connected. But when you give it a  _ name _ and an approximate location it creates this whole myth and pressure around it that is  _ totally _ undeserved and we waste a lot of time looking around for it and trying to  _ do  _ something with it and it’s not even that special.”

“‘It’s not?”

“You know, a couple times, it’s been on the verge of... like…’oh, this could be interesting.’ But usually it just makes me feel like I have to pee and then I’m in my head about that.  _ And _ , I swear to God, there’s just  _ nothing  _ different about that spot. It’s supposed to be ‘spongy’? What the fuck does that even mean? It’s all spongy in there.” 

“So when you’re with another woman, you don’t even…”

“I mean, I follow directions. I try if they want me to. And, believe me, I don’t leave  _ anyone _ disappointed. Did I tell you that I made a woman meow last week?”

“You made a woman meow?”

“But I just don’t feel like I’m...you know, hitting it. Literally. Maybe I’m just really amazing at everything else so they don’t notice.”

“You do have really small hands.” He holds up his hand.

“Size has nothing to do with it.”  But now she’s looking at his giant hand and wondering if that’s true.  “Do you know what I’m talking about though? Do men feel this way?” 

“I can’t speak for all men.” 

“Fine. Just you.” 

“Okay.” He lifts the rye bread from the top of his sandwich and rearranges some of the elements inside. “I don’t feel that way and you’re wrong.”

“Why, because of your massive hands?” 

“No.” He puts the bread back on the sandwich. “Because I know  _ exactly _ what I’m doing with ‘that’.” 

“Oh, you do?” 

“Just because  _ you _ lack the skill, you’re ready to declare the whole thing null and void. It’s not.”

“What are you implying, that  _ you’re  _ better at it than I am?”

“I’m not implying.” He finally bites into the sandwich. 

“You’re so full of shit. You think you know more than a  _ woman _ who has been with dozens of other women? That is  _ peak _ mediocre white man confidence.” 

“You  _ just _ told me that you don’t know what ‘spongy’ means.”

“And how many women have you...done ‘that’ to since Paige left?”

“Unlike you, I’m selective. And if quantity was a factor, you wouldn’t be struggling like this.”

“ _ Struggling _ ?”

“If you want to get into technique, I could give you some pointers. If you ask nicely.”

“Oh, this should be good. Please, enlighten me.” 

He leans forward. 

“First, you need to stop thinking of it as a location you’re trying to find. It’s a process.” 

“That  _ you’re  _ going to explain to me?”

“It’s more of a demonstration.” 

She slowly sinks backward into her chair.

“Oh of course it is. Should we order half a grapefruit?”

“We already have something better than a grapefruit.” She feels his eyes drift over her.  _ What the fuck? _

“Are you kidding?”

“You need a teacher. Apparently.”

She scoffs. “You are so transparent. Now I  _ know  _ you’re full of shit because you would not actually go through with this.”  She reaches up to take her ponytail down and put it back up again. 

“I’ll show you the technique.” He clears his throat. “On you.”

“Just so I’m understanding...you can’t share this ‘technique’ unless you finger me?” She gestures between them. “How convenient for you.”

“It’s not like  _ I _ would get anything out of it.” 

“Well I wouldn’t get anything out of it either because there’s no way I would even come.”

An elderly lady at the table next to them turns her head.

“There is the satisfaction of proving you wrong, I suppose.”

“This is insulting.”

“You’re curious.”

“I am not!”

\---

They enter the restroom one at a time, Rey checking carefully for employees before slipping inside and locking the door quickly. 

Ben’s washing his hands, which, although necessary, seems weirdly clinical. Which isn’t necessarily a turn  _ off _ ? He looks up at her through the mirror over the sink. 

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure you’re bluffing, yes.”

There’s barely room to maneuver in terms of floor space, but there is a counter. They both eye it suspiciously. 

“I’m not putting my ass on a mysterious countertop. I’m not 19 anymore.”

Ben considers it for few seconds, and takes his sweater off, laying it on the counter. 

“How many layers of black do you have on?” she asks, eyeing his t-shirt. “I’m going to buy you a white undershirt for Christmas.” 

“I can take it off if it’s bothering you so much.” 

“No!” she says quickly, suddenly hyper aware of the automatic way she’s staring at his arms and chest. “You’re sure about your sweater though?” 

“I have a fantastic dry cleaner.”

Rey rolls her eyes she peels off her leggings and her boots, leaving everything else in place.

“That’s it?”

“That’s all you get.” The underwear stays on.

“You’ll regret that later.”

“We’ll see.”

“Stay standing for now. You can lean against the counter. Face me.”

She acquiesces with a little sigh. He’s been a little short with her all day and his tone is bossy. He places his palm against her stomach, pushing her until the counter presses into her lower back. She’s wearing a long sleeved thermal shirt because it’s freezing outside and she’s already sweating but she refuses to take it off. His hand migrates underneath it.

“Uh, I don’t think so.” She tugs his hand away. “Keep it professional.”   


“Professional?”

“No groping above the waist. And don’t even  _ think _ about making out with me,” she says, pulling her head back as he gives her an annoyed little glare.  She tightens her ponytail again.

The question of boundaries raises a concern...

“Ben? This is fucked up, right?” 

“Definitely fucked up.”

“We’re still going to be friends when we leave this bathroom. Right?”

“Yes.”

_ See. This is fine _ . 

He slips his hand down the front of her panties, trailing the pads of his fingers down so they just brush against her clit and around it in light, steady strokes, which is...not what she agreed to. It’s irritatingly effective. 

“What are you doing?” she hisses. “I  _ know _ this part. I practically have a PhD in it.” 

“You have to come first.” He doesn’t stop his movements. “Did I not mention that?” 

“No! No you didn’t!” 

“It’s very important. Like stretching before you run. You were just complaining about some guy jamming his finger in you. How did you think this was going to go?”

“I don’t know!” 

“Well then I’m starting to understand what your problem is. Should I stop?”

“No!” It comes out louder than she intends.

When she’d ordered him to keep it professional, she hadn’t taken into account that with the way they’re positioned, their faces are unsettlingly close, with nowhere to look but right at each other.

He takes his other annoyingly oversized hand and slips it under the waistband, pressing down just below her navel.

“Stop enjoying this,” she snaps, gripping the edge of the countertop. 

“What makes you think I’m enjoying this any more than you are?”

She turns her head to the side to avoid eye contact. He is  _ really _ good at this. Well, this part, at least. It’s infuriating. She reminders herself that it’s just his stupid enormous fingers _. Surface area.  _  Her breathing feels uncontrollably loud. 

“It doesn’t count if I come from this, by the way.”

“Consider it a free sample.” 

When Rey is alone and in a hurry, sometimes it only takes twenty seconds. And it’s best if this concludes quickly because she can already feel her self-control slipping. She just needs a little more...something  _ just  _ out of reach. She moves her hips, trying to increase the friction.  _ Just a little bit more. _ He’s not quite cooperating.

“Are you... _ prolonging this _ ?”

“You want to use persistent, rhythmic strokes until your partner asks for more,” he says, clearly enjoying this shift in their usual dynamic. “So you’ll have to ask. This is really basic stuff, Rey.”

“You are unbelievable,” she manages to utter in between increasingly ragged breaths.

“Thank you. Were you about to say something else?”

“Can you just—mmhm—stop teasing and get on with it.”

“Since you asked so nicely.”

He increases the speed and pressure enough to bring her just to the edge, all while keeping his eyes locked on her. It’s unnerving. Rey finds a spot near the door to focus on as the familiar throbbing sensation continues to build, but not quite peak. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she finally blurts out.

“Why are you looking over my shoulder like that?”    
  
“Stop eye fucking me. And don’t say it’s part of your process.” 

“I’ll tell you why I’m looking at you. You try to conceal everything. If you were a good partner, you’d be communicating instead of deflecting.” He leans in, hovering over what little remains of her personal space. “But just so you know, you have no poker face right now. You’re giving me everything. I can tell that you like this—” he strokes his index finger just to the left of her clit, making her whimper “—and you don’t want too much direct pressure. Just enough in the right spots.” 

_ It’s the voice. Fuck.  _ That damn voicemail must have altered her brain chemistry.

“Are you ready to come now?”

“Y-yes!” she stammers, grabbing at his t-shirt. “Please just…”

“No groping.” He grabs her wrist and pins her hand to the counter, leaning her back, grabbing a hold of her ass as he finally— _ finally _ — focuses more directly on her clit with light, rapid movements, just leaving her at the edge.

“Shit. Ahh. Oh god. I’m gonna come. I’m gonna come.” She’s so close. It’s within reach. Something swoops along her spine and down to her center, where she’s getting wetter by the second. She tenses, trying to chase the feeling to its climax. She opens her eyes again, and he’s still looking down at her, taking everything in. She squirms against his hand, letting out a ragged moan. 

“Come on, Rey. I want you to come for me. Let go.”

“Ffffuuu—” she starts to actually yell as she tips over the edge and Ben clamps his other hand over her mouth.

She’s dizzy and sweating and panting when she comes down off the pulsing high, hanging onto the edge of the counter.

“Do you want to keep going?” he asks, as she catches her breath.

“I mean…That was...Do you think…We should probably—”

“Continue?”

“Yes. We should. Definitely.”

He nods rapidly.

“Get up on the counter,” he says, with more than a touch of roughness in his voice, as he helps her hop up on top of his sweater.

Ben grabs her thigh just above the knee, making her flinch. She feels  _ more _ nervous now that they’ve both expressed an apparent eagerness to keep going. There’s too much gravity for it to just be a joke taken too far.

“Are you...are you doing this because of what I said about Kylo Ren? The text?”

He pushes her legs further apart and runs his fingers up the delicate skin of her inner thigh until he reaches the fabric of her underwear. It’s soaked through now and she should just take them off. But that tiny useless barrier is the last thing keeping this from being a full-on bathroom hookup, so the panties need to stay.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

But there was a text, right? Since she came she’s having trouble remembering how or why the argument started. 

He yanks the fabric to the side. She inhales sharply as he angles his hand and slowly slides a finger inside her, leaning forward so that his hair is almost grazing her forehead.

“Why are your hands so fucking big?”

“Why are you so fucking wet?”

She groans as she leans back, trying to put a safer distance between their faces, bumping her head against the mirror on the wall. 

“Sorry, Rey.” He slides his finger back out

“What? What happened?” She bolts upright again.

“I’ll buy you a new pair.” She hears the fabric tear before it falls away.  _ Fuck, it was a good pair, too _ .  “I did warn you.”

Is she upset because of the panties or the sudden withdrawal of his hand? 

“Can you take more?”

She stills. 

“I’ve taken an entire fist, you know.”

“Not mine.” 

_ Jesus Christ. _

He gently pushes two fingers inside her this time, while rubbing his thumb around the side of her clit. She moans softly, despite herself. It’s pathetic how easily she’s coming undone, even though some part of her brain still wants to keep up the pretense that this is only about being right.  

“Do you feel that?” He curves his fingers and presses up firmly, watching carefully for her reaction. “You’re holding your breath.  _ Breathe. _ ” 

Except now she can’t remember what she wants to be right about...

“Mmm hmm.” She holds onto the faucet and the edge of the counter for leverage. It feels like she’s about to pee, so she actually follows his instruction, taking a deep breath and willing herself to relax and push through it. He’s applying a lot more pressure with his fingers than she’s used to, but it’s exactly right and her body is humming. She feels her face flushing as he presses his other hand down on her lower abdomen, pushing from the outside, while continuing a steady rhythm inside.

And then she feels it. Maybe it’s just a tiny shift, a matter of millimeters, but it’s there. Real.

“Shit. Holy shit.” She jolts forward, almost knocking into his shoulder.

“Yeah, I feel it, too.” He nods.

“Ahhh. Don’t stop. Don’t fucking stop. Just do—that. Fuck.” She’s whimpering, letting the heat roll over her body in waves.

“Firm...constant...steady...rhythmic...pressure. All part of the process. I hope you’re paying attention.” 

She looks down.

“Ohhh God.”  His stupid enormous fingers are barely two knuckles deep. 

“What did I just say?” She looks back at him, unable to process whatever condescending wisdom he thinks he’s imparting. 

“Huh?” Her legs are dangling a few frustrating inches from the floor and she fidgets to find some kind of footing. 

He grabs hold of her right leg, bending it at the knee and resting it against his shoulder, deepening the angle. 

“We’re trying something else, okay?” he announces like they’re playing doubles and changing up the strategy.

But she’s losing her words to nonsensical babbling, so she just nods quickly. He could ask her to do anything at this particular moment and she’d probably obey.

He straightens his fingers and pushes up further and deeper, rubbing against her front wall and somehow that’s even better. 

It makes her bite down on her lip too hard.

“Oh god, right there. Just—” 

“Firm, constant, steady, rhythmic pressure. Are you even listening? I’m starting to think you just wanted me to do this to you all along. Is that why you wanted to complain to me about your date?” He lets his other hand focus on her clit, never stroking it directly, just edging around it. “You just expect me to nod and play along with this game?”

“Stop talking. Don’t say anything, just...shit, I’m so close.”

“Repeat what I said, so I know you’re getting something out of this.”

She needs this so bad, she actually tries to repeat his stupid mantra.

“Firm...uh, con—. Oh fuck. Oh fuck—” He increases the intensity of his movements.

“I mean,” he looks over her shoulder like he’s pondering something. “I can  _ feel _ what you’re getting out of this.”

“—I’m...I’m gonna come again.” She feels so full and the tension has to break.

“No.” He looks back at her again. “You’re not going to come until you admit I was right.”

“ _ What _ ?” She feels him easing up on everything.  _ No no no no no... _

“I want you to say it. Tell me how good I am at this. Then I’ll let you come.”

He pauses, apparently waiting for this declaration.  _ Infuriating. _

“Fine,” she says through gritted teeth. “But you’re going to pay for this. At some point.”

“No, Rey.” He moves in closer so that his mouth is almost brushing her ear.  “I don’t think I am.”

“I h-hate you so much right now.”  

He backs up again, so she can see his face, where a wide, satisfied grin is forming.  

“We’re playing my game right now. Not yours.”

He looks totally in control and she’s a sweaty, panting, trembling mess who’s going to ruin his sweater.  Hopefully it’s his favorite.

“You were right,” she says breathlessly, rushing to get the words out before all the build-up dissipates. “You’re...you’re...good at this. Fuck. Please.”

He nods and moves his fingers again and... _ yes, yes this is good.  _

“Lean back a little bit.” She complies, but only because he picks up the pressure again and she’s aching to come. “Arch your back for me. That’s right. So you _are_ capable of being a good girl when you stop bratting,” he says, pinging her praise receptor and sending an involuntary volt of pleasure to her core. 

“Oh god oh god. Mmmnn. Ben. I’m almost…”

“I’m sorry, what did you call me?”

“Ben? Oh, uh…’sir’? Did you want me to—”

“No. Say my name again.” 

“Ben!”

“That’s right. Kylo Ren? It’s just a stupid pseudonym. The asshole you missed? Here the whole time.”

“Please. Please. Ben. Fuck. I’m gonna come. I can’t—” She throws her head back, squeezing her eyes shut, reaching for his shirt again.  She knows she’s about to lose it because her legs are shaking and she’s moaning incoherently, almost begging for the release. 

“No, Rey. I want you to see who’s making you come. Look at me.”

In all the times she’s come in front of someone else, she’s always closed her eyes, or buried her head in pillow, without even thinking about it. She’s never actually  _ looked _ at another person who was looking back at her. 

But she snaps her head back up so they’re looking at each other again. It’s fucking intense, feeling seen when she’s about to surrender control of her body. 

“Do it again, Rey. Bigger this time. Come for me. Come all over my hand.”

Just when she thinks she can’t feel another sensation without going numb, another, stronger rush courses through her whole body and starts to cry out.

Ben tries to shush her, but when that doesn’t work, he sticks the fingers of his other hand in her mouth. It’s obscene. She comes much harder this time, letting go completely and gushing.

They don’t move right away. When her breathing evens out, he gently pulls his hands away and she slides down from the counter on unsteady legs. 

“Shit. Ben, your sweater… I think I—.”

He stares at the black cashmere and then down at his hand.

“Do you do that...often?”

She shakes her head.

“By myself, but usually not with other people.”

The corner of his mouth starts to curve up into a some kind of smirk.

“Well don’t get all smug about it. I mean, your sweater is probably ruined, I don’t care how good your dry cleaner is.” She reaches for her leggings, remembering that her underwear is in tatters on the floor.

“I never liked it anyway.” He snatches it off the counter.

“And you owe me a pair of underwear. A good pair.”

“Worth it.” She raises an eyebrow. “For the satisfaction of being proven right.”

“I mean at least we worked out our differences.” She pulls her leggings on quickly. “Arguments like that can really get in the way of a friendship.”

“Which would be a shame.” He hands her her boots. 

“Actually, a little feedback for you, in the spirit of openness: you  _ are _ a really condescending teacher.”

“Well, feedback for  _ you _ : you’re a brat. But I think you learned something.”

“After we walk out that door, we never mention this again?” Rey pulls her boots on, expecting him to agree, as usual.

“No, I don’t think so.” She looks up.  “I will  _ definitely  _ bring this up. As necessary.”

“As necessary?”

“Yes.”

She blushes for some reason. 

“Do you still want to see the movie?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I’ll let you...wash your hands. Meet you outside? We should leave separately.”

“Good idea.”

She pauses as she unlocks the door. 

“Didn’t make me meow though.” She slips through the door before he can say anything.

For the first time in his life, he exits a restroom without washing his hands. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't know I was going to reference the hand washing from Chapter 4 (Chekhov's sink?), but Ben really is a secret perv, who are we kidding? 
> 
> Did this happen? I don't know. I wrote it several weeks ago as just a regular part of a chapter and then felt like it went too far, so I leave for you, the reader, to decide. 
> 
> Oh, and yes I realize I still wrote this mainly as DIALOGUE. I have a problem, ok? I can't describe anything to save my life. I'm sorry they won't shut up and just fuck each other already.
> 
> Want to continue with the main narrative? [Chapter 10](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15877074/chapters/38183987)


End file.
